


Maybe Next Time.

by josten_jxnkie



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Andreil, Angst, Blood, Death, Drug Use, Gore warning, Guardian - Freeform, Guardian Angel AU, Hallucinations, LGBT, LGBTQ Character, M/M, Murder, Prescribed Drug Use, Scars, TFC, Therapy, aftg, andrewminyardsupportgroup, angel - Freeform, aspec character, guardian angel neil, m/m - Freeform, mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:54:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27476116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/josten_jxnkie/pseuds/josten_jxnkie
Summary: Neil stayed silent again and Andrew assumed he had gone. He sighed and slowly got up, mindful of his toes hanging off the edge as he did. When he turned he almost fell back from his stand, but Neil was there to catch him.“I thought I was supposed to be dragging you down with me, not saving you from yourself.” He smiled.In which Andrew grows rather fond of his hallucinatory guardian angel.
Relationships: Betsy Dobson & Andrew Minyard, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 5
Kudos: 77





	Maybe Next Time.

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiii! So this is my first time using ao3 for the purpose of publishing so i hope I've done all of this correctly >:)  
> This is dedicated to Lina, who finished the series the other day and has been pleading for fluff. SO HERE'S SOME ANGST :D!!!!  
> I hope you enjoy <3
> 
> Also this was inspired by an edit by one of my mutual on Instagram, @seabreezexeditz. Make sure to check out their edit!!!

His Legs dangled over the edge. This was a risk, a stupid thing to do. But it was the only way he could feel anything, even if it was fear, on these cold afternoons as sobriety began to kick in for the night. Andrew flicked his cigarette and watched the ash fall over the edge, too far to make out anymore. Every nerve in his body was ringing alarm bells, telling him to move away, to not get any closer. But they were also telling him to have a look, to peer over the edge, at the tarmac beneath and the rolling hill beyond that. This was what it felt like to feel things, this is all he wanted. Control.  
“Control?” Asked the unmistakable voice behind him. Andrew barely flinched at the intrusion, he was so used to it now. “That’s a hard thing to come by now-a-days.”  
Andrew scoffed and took a long drag of the cigarette, the feeling of the inhaled smoke burning the back of his throat was like euphoria to his senses. “Don’t sneak up on people like that.” He said, not turning around to face the man. “It’s rude, may even get you killed.”  
“What would you do?” He laughed. “Push me off the edge? I would only drag you down with me.”  
Andrew finally turned around, a scowl drawn on his face, but the man had already disappeared. Just like every other time. He wished he could see the face of the invasive thought, the shadow that haunted him for the past year. But he was never able to catch a glimpse.  
Maybe next time. 

And there, of course, was the next time. Andrew found himself dozing off in the beanbag, a tub of unopened ice cream and a spoon laying loosely between his fingers. He could feel those eyes on him, those piercing eyes that always stared.  
“Your name.” Andrew ordered from the spirit.  
The intruder was silent for a moment. “You know my name already.” He finally said. “You never forget, you just store it away for when you need it. You’ll remember one day, I'm sure.”  
Andrew didn’t see his face then either. His eyes had fallen shut with exhaustion from Kevins night practice.  
Maybe next time. 

He sat in bees office. His hot chocolate was slowly cooling to a good enough temperature to drink and bee was showing Andrew a new glass ornament she had bought. It was a multitude of colours, unlike the majority of the small figures. A cat, with a fluorescent explosion of colour. Andrew felt almost possessive over the brightly coloured cat, his instinct was to keep it safe from the world because it was so fragile. But it was just a stupid cat. It was nothing.  
“Your obsessiveness over those little knicknacks must grow tiresome.” He sighed, sipping the cocoa and licking the remnants from his upper lip.  
“Oh. Never.” She smiled pleasantly and put the cat back up on the shelf with the rest. “How have you been lately?”  
Andrew rolled his eyes and carefully set his cup on the small table between them. “What a generic question. Ask me something a little more creative.”  
Bee smiled and looked into her hot chocolate. “Have you seen the mysterious man again?”  
Now that was better. “No. I’ve never seen him. He’s always behind me, just out of sight, out of reach. But I’ve heard him.”  
“And what does he say?”  
“Nothing much.” He shrugged, and he could feel the manic smile caused by his drugs tugging at his lips. “I tried asking for his name.”  
“And?”  
“And nothing. He says I already know it. Says i'll remember it one day.”  
Bee seemed thoughtful for a moment, finally looking up from her drink and putting on one of her classic mastermind grins. “Why don’t you give him a new name, just until you remember the old one.”  
Andrew nodded and slumped back into the seat. He couldn’t feel the mystery staring at him, couldn’t feel the cold chill creeping up his arms at the thought of his privacy be taken away. He missed it.  
Maybe next time. 

“I’m giving you a name.” Andrew declared as he once again found himself being watched on the roof.  
He knew he was there, but he didn’t speak for a moment. “What if i don’t want a new name?” Said the shadow.  
“I’m not asking. I don’t ask.”  
Silence.  
“And what would you call me?”  
Andrew stared off at the clouds, at the stars, at the moon that was slowly rising into the night. He wondered if, when he finally came off his drugs, he could feel this at peace, could feel at all. But that wasn’t going to be for a long time.  
“Neil.”  
“Neil huh? A bit bland don’t you think?” Neil laughed. Andrew wanted to turn around, and wanted to see the man's face at least once. But he didn’t want to be alone right now.  
“Perhaps if you told me your real name…”  
Neil stayed silent again and Andrew assumed he had gone. He sighed and slowly got up, mindful of his toes hanging off the edge as he did. When he turned he almost fell back from his stand, but Neil was there to catch him.  
“I thought i was supposed to be dragging you down with me, not saving you from yourself.” He smiled. It was a beautiful smile. His teeth were straight and white, his lips were pink and slightly chapped. And his eyes. They were nothing like Andrew had ever imagined them. A piercing blue that sent daggers through every inch of his being. This was reckless. This was bad. But Andrew couldn’t help but keep falling.  
“My real name?” Neil continued as he held onto Andrew's arm. He would've been repulsed if it were anybody else. But Neil seemed different. “You still haven’t remembered… Neil will do just fine. I Like it better anyway.”  
And then he was gone. Just like that. Andrew wanted to see his face again, see his auburn curls and his icy eyes just once more…  
Maybe next time. 

They were laying side by side. It was lucky they were both pretty short. Neil only seemed to just reach 5”3 whilst Andrew was a solid 5”. He would’ve been uncomfortable if this were anyone else, but for some reason this just felt right. Neil seemed to appreciate laying closer to the door, which Andrew was happy with as he preferred being against the wall. He watched him out of the corner of his eye, watched how the scars across his face creased when he smiled, how his curls were messy today, how his eyes were a little dimmer than they were before. He didn’t remember seeing scars across his face the last time he had seen him. And he had a very good memory. This Neil was a different version than the one he’d seen before. A fragile Neil. When Andrew looked at him he was reminded of Bees new cat. The small rainbow glass sculpture that had entranced him so much when he had last seen it. He just wanted to protect him, to hold him and keep him close. He was so fragile.  
Andrew wanted to say something, wanted to talk to him, but he couldn’t, not with the others in the room.  
Maybe next time. 

He wasn’t there. He wasn’t standing behind him on the roof, or pulling him back from the edge. He wasn’t lying beside him in the cramped bed or curled up the second beanbag. He wasn’t there. Andrew wanted him back.  
Maybe next time. 

He sat in class, barely listening to the lecture, until a name was mentioned. The Butcher of Baltimore, his alias. But Andrew remembered this name. Nathan Wesninski, a serial killer who’s favourite weapon was a cleaver. He had been arrested not too long ago after they found one of his victims during a police raid. His wife, Andrew remembered, Mary Hatford. They had a son as well. Andrew wondered what had happened to him.  
He could see Neil standing in the corner of the classroom. His eyes were darker and the bags under his eyes were more prominent. He looked gaunt and worn, as if he had been on the run for years but was slowly giving up the fight. The scars on his face were red today, they were fresh, oozing, bleeding.  
Neil slowly turned to Andrew. He was crying. Why was he crying? Andrew wanted to ask him. He wanted to run down there and pull him in tight.  
“Do you remember yet?” Neil asked. His voice was a whisper in his ear, despite the great distance between them. It sent a shiver down his spine. Andrew had to talk to him. Had to protect him. But not right now.  
Maybe next time. 

Will there ever be a next time? He’s never around when Andrew can talk to him. He’s always lurking now. He was once in the middle of the court during a game, stood on the fox paw. Everyone seemed to dodge around him, as if he was really there. Maybe he was. He would never know. He would never be able to ask him. There was blood dripping from his fingers, burns across his knuckles and arms. The sight made Andrew want to throw up. Whoever could do something so vile and cruel to something so beautiful and fragile…  
He would help him. He would clean him up, wrap new bandages over his wounds everyday, help him clean, help him get dressed, even help him tie his shoelaces. But he was never around anymore. Andrew missed him more than he would've cared to admit. He never thought he could have fallen so quickly, or at all. He tried to remember his name, it was there just out of reach but Andrew knew it. It was just a matter of time. He would remember it the next time Neil finally spoke to him. Perhaps. He would call him by his name and see how he reacts.  
Maybe next time. 

He was lying on the floor in the lounge of the stadium, his shirt was torn and soaked with blood. He was lying there on the floor and Andrew couldn’t do anything to help. He was out of reach. There were scars across his front, probably across his back too. They all looked fresh, but they also all looked old. The burning iron across his shoulder sizzled in the air, but the scar faded over the years. The bullet wound was oozing, but the hole was sealed and healed. The slashes and cuts across him were an angry red, but they were also shiny like an old scar that refused to leave. They reminded Andrew of his own scars, though they were all self inflicted. They told a story. A story that he would never share, except maybe with Neil. Just like Neil was right now. He was sharing his story with Andrew, trusting him with his scars, with his life. Andrew wanted nothing more than to do the same.  
He remembered his name now. He remembered seeing the missing photo of the pretty boy with auburn curls and icy blue eyes. He remembered hearing about the case in class that day. The day he saw him crying. He understood now. He remembered now.  
Nathaniel Wesninski, son of Nathan Wesninski, The Butcher. He was missing.  
“No.” Andrew said. Nathaniel didn’t move but he could see the tears rolling down his cheeks. “No, you’re Neil. You are not him, you’re Neil.”  
Nathaniel slowly turned his head, a soft smile on his face. Andrew hated him. How could he smile like that when he was hurting. “There is no Neil. There was Nathaniel.” Nathaniel sighed and turned back to the ceiling above. The sound of Kevin hitting balls against the court wall was suddenly ringing in Andrew's ears. “You know, I used to love Exy. I played backliner in little league. I even played with Kevin once. He was good, is good. I would never be able to play like him. I’m a runner.”  
Andrew didn’t know what he was talking about. He knew that Kevin was connected to the Moriyamas, knew what the Moriyamas were. But what did Nathaniel have to do with that?  
“Everything.” He answered. “I ran away. Me and my mother. We ran away. But we weren’t fast enough. Seven years - that's how long we lasted - before he caught us. Before he caught her. I got away but I wasn’t fast enough.”  
“What are you saying?” Andrew said. He hated what sobriety was doing to him. He hated how he couldn’t show Nathaniel how he felt. The look of pure apathy that covered his face whilst he was off his medication was so infuriating.  
“You will.” He said before he was gone.  
Kevin walked in, sweat dripping down his face. He looked Andrew up and down curiously. The question buzzed under his skin, clawed at his throat, but he didn’t think he had the strength to ask. He thought, perhaps, that maybe he wouldn’t have to ask. He could just say one thing and Kevin would tell him from there.  
“Come on. I’m finished.” Kevin said and walked into the locker room to change.  
Andrew touched the bands on his arms, feeling the knives through the material. They were his security. They were there for him, not as protection but as a warning. A warning to anyone hurt anything he cared about. And that included Nathaniel Wesninski.  
He would understand what Neil meant. He would ask Kevin that dreadful question which threatened his very mind. But not today.  
Maybe next time. 

Bee had broken her new cat ornament. Only a small break that could go unnoticed if she placed it at the right angle. She said it was nothing to worry about, easily fixed and or replaceable. But it wasn’t. Not really. She had asked him about Neil again. But Andrew refused to answer. He didn’t have the strength anymore.  
Maybe next time.

Andrew was sober now. He had been for a couple of weeks, and since then he hadn’t seen his mysterious man. Kevin had told him nothing, only the scarce information he knew of the Wesninkis, of Neil. But that was better than what had come next.  
He was dead. Found in the basement of his childhood home in Baltimore which had been left to one of Wesninskis inner circle. He was burnt and cut open. The news report spared almost all the details but this: Nathaniel Wesninski was dead. Neil was dead. Kevin had a nervous breakdown but Andrew hadn’t even tried to help him out. Neil was dead. He wasn’t fast enough and there was no one there to protect him. Andrew wasn’t there to protect him.  
He left to go to the roof. He needed to feel something so he once again found himself dangling his legs off the edge of the roof. He was three floors off the ground with his heart racing and his nerves screaming as he imagined what life with Neil, the real Neil, would've been like.  
He was there. Beside him. Just like before.  
“You were supposed to be a side effect of the drugs.” Andrew said, staring dead ahead. He was too afraid to look at his face, to look at the scars across his cheeks or the mess of curls on his head.  
“I’m a hallucination.”  
“A pipedream…” Andrew sighed. “I never thought i was going to fall in love. And to think when i finally did, it was inside my head.”  
Neil laughed. It was small and fragile, like the broken glass cat, like him.”Kinda funny don’t you think? You spend so long hating yourself, mutilating yourself, and ignoring your own needs until I come along, wipe you off your feet, and manipulate you into loving yourself.”  
“I wouldn’t have put it like that.”  
“No. You wouldn’t.” Neil sighed. Andrew started down at the burning cigarette. Clean, pale fingers reached out and stole it. He slowly turned to see Neil put the cigarette between his lips. He looked just as he had the first time Andrew had seen him. When he had pulled him back from the edge and saved him from falling. This was the Neil he remembered.  
“I didn’t know you smoked.” He said. Because what else was there to say?  
“I don’t.”

**Author's Note:**

> wow this was so messy haha. I'm really sorry i haven't written in a while so this is really rough and there's probably mistakes i haven't noticed in my proof reads but I'm sure you were able to work out the unintelligible babble.


End file.
